Target
by S-Boogie
Summary: Sorry that I had to re-upload this one! The previous one had my name on it and for some reason I couldn't delete that part. This is an alternate ending to see something that might happen if the naval officer didn't show up. Please enjoy!


_Pant. Pant. Pant._

He weaved in and out of the creepers with his filthy hair flopping around uselessly about his face and shoulders. It had been two months since half of the island was reduced to charcoal and still they'd been hunting him down. He'd lost a considerable amount of weight and had become extremely dehydrated since the savages took over all of the freshwater spots. His nails turned into claws and he hadn't had a bath in weeks, not that it made much of a difference. He'd still reek of dirt, sweat, and blood. His hair became matted and greasy with several rats' nests piled on top of one another. He'd tried desperately to straighten it out only to end up either making it worse or getting his fingers ensnared within the huge tangles.

Once he was sure that the savages were off of his trail he leaned back on the cool bark of an uncharred tree and slid down it in exhaustion. The numbers of savages had been greatly reduced since their leader promoted a murderer for a right-hand man. The twins had been brutally killed a few days prior for accidentally dropping mud into paint-filled coconuts. The chief had looked at his most trusted companion and given him the option of choosing an appropriate punishment for the twins which, of course, was taken to the extreme. The dark haired boy had made one of them watch the other suffer through being gored to death and then receiving the same chastisement. It was reported by one of the other savages that he had a psychopathic grin on his face throughout the entire sentence as if he'd been thrilled at the sight of spilled blood.

The fair haired boy rested his eyes for a minute before hearing a rustling sound from within the bushes. Instinctively he ducked into a nearby thicket. The chief. He'd been riding on just as little sleep as the fair haired boy as evidenced by the dark circles under his eyes. He howled in frustration and used his spear to hack his way through the undergrowth, narrowly bypassing the hiding place of his prey.

"Come on out, Ralph," the chief called in a sickening voice. "I know that you're around here somewhere."

Once the coast was clear Ralph inched his way out from under the thicket and moved not at a semi-quick pace while remaining cautious of the psychotic redhead who used to be his friend to a degree. They'd exchanged pleasantries every now and then and actually hung out together from time to time and laughed with each other. Now it was either hunt or be hunted. Ralph had tried to patch things up with his once friend and was still willing to. The only problem was now he had an outcast label stamped to his forehead and swam in a sea full of hungry sharks. Sometimes that boy made him wonder how or why they'd ever been friends in the first place and Ralph kept holding on to the belief that it would work out someday.

The chief flopped down on the sand and instantly decided to not do any more flopping, for it had forced a dust cloud to surge up and infest his eyes, making them water. He rubbed them for a while and blinked several times before his right-hand man made his way over to him with a somber expression yet murderous intent in his eyes.

"Did something happen?" the chief asked with mild skepticism.

"Their bodies," the dark haired boy began, an insane grin spreading across his face, "you can't even tell who it is anymore." He ducked his head down and tried to hide the growing manic laughter.

"You're relieved for now, Roger," the chief ordered without further questioning. As time passed the chief grew a little fearful toward the raven haired boy and on occasion would snap to a sitting position in the middle of the night with sweat pouring down his face. He'd glance over at Roger to see if he was still sleeping and then curse himself for thinking such things. He'd repeatedly blow off any superstitions that he had as if they were nothing, for he was the chief of his tribe and believed that nothing could reach him at this stature.

The chief perched himself on a rock in front of a small cooking fire that had roasted dozens of pigs before as well as a few of his previous tribe members for disobeying orders or doing something incorrectly. He sighed heavily and glanced around at Roger, who continued to hack at the already mutilated flesh with a bored expression. The chief thought that it wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't covered in blood and hunched over a gooey dead body. Or was it two? He couldn't tell whether or not it was one of his previous tribe members or a dead animal. Either way he decided to leave Roger alone at the moment.

"It's not as much fun," Roger muttered to himself, "when they're already dead. They stop screaming and the fear in their eyes dies along with the rest of them." He stopped chopping for a moment and stared at the body, which was so far gone at this point that nobody could even eat it. He plunged his knife (which was made of a sharpened rock tied to a stick), in the center of the rotting flesh and sliced it open only to receive more of the same substance. He sighed, withdrew his knife, and made his way over to the fire. He plopped down next to the chief, giving the redhead a start.

"Could you please give me a warning next time?" The chief scolded.

"Sorry," Roger murmured. "Are you still upset that you haven't caught Ralph?"

"Don't remind me." The chief rubbed his face, smearing some of the paint. He looked back at Roger, whose bangs cloaked the dark haired boy's expression. To an extent, the chief didn't want to see his companion's face out of fear that it'd be even crazier than the last time he saw him. He shook his head and stared off into the fire.

Ralph awoke with a start, not realizing that he'd fallen asleep. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and peered around the back of the tree. Luckily for him there was nobody there. He knew that it was only a matter of time before the hunt continued. He felt as though he were in an endless time loop until one of them got killed or they were rescued. He held a tiny hope in his heart that the savages would eventually perish.

_ But, _he thought, _what would be worse? Having them hunt me down for who knows how long or being completely alone? _He wished hopelessly that Simon and Piggy were still alive. At least then he'd have some companionship and advice, which he desperately needed from someone other than himself. He heard a rustling and swiveled around as quickly as he could only to trip and land rather noisily on his butt. He swiftly returned to his feet and braced himself to flee but what raced out at him was a small piglet. Ralph sighed and nearly collapsed again but forced himself to stay upright. While keeping on his toes Ralph searched for whatever fruit that he could salvage.

The chief stirred, slowly peeling open his dark blue eyes as if the lids were previously glued together. He heaved his upper body into a half-sitting position and blinked rapidly to clear out the bleariness in his vision. He surveyed the area to see if the others were still resting. When he looked behind him Roger was merely inches away from his face, staring at him with deep intensity.

"What the heck?" The chief fell backwards into a cloud of sand. "Don't sneak up on me like that! Make some noise next time!"

"Sorry," Roger said solemnly before ducking his head down once more to conceal his face. It was times like these that the chief wished that he knew what this kid was thinking. He thought twice about asking before deciding that it was probably not a good idea.

"I was thinking," the ebony haired boy began so softly that the chief barely heard him.

"Go on." The chief was curious yet frightened at the same time. He'd known about Roger's impulses from the beginning and had used them to his advantage but now he worried that these impulses might grow strong enough as to overpower him. This was the first time that he'd really noticed.

"I was thinking that we should give the ultimate punishment to anyone who messes up in any way." His dark amber eyes lit up with hunger. The chief understood now. This boy just liked to hurt people for the fun of it.

"I think," the chief began, "that we deal out appropriate punishments based on the severity of the crime. I don't believe that Samneric deserved what they got. All they did was mix a little mud in the paint." He stole a glance at his companion, who looked more than a little disappointed. "Don't worry," the chief continued, "you'll get to punish those who really deserve it."

"Okay." Roger stood up and walked off, not ever revealing his complete expression to his leader.

Two more weeks had passed and Roger, Ralph, and the chief were the only three remaining on the island. The chief had no clue how it happened but the rest of his tribe (save for Roger) had vanished and their bodies were never found. Roger seemed strangely calmer than the last time he'd brought up wanting to deal the ultimate punishment a couple of weeks prior. The very thought of it unnerved the chief. He shook his head and turned to the only member left of his tribe.

"So," he fixated his gaze on Roger's eyes, "care to tell me what happened to the others in just a couple of weeks?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Roger seemed a little uneasy at the subtle accusation but relaxed quickly. "I had nothing to do with their disappearances." He shifted his feet a little then turned to look at the chief full-on. The redhead could tell by his flickering gaze that he was hiding something. Then again, with Roger it always seemed like he was hiding something. The chief wondered if the boy had been deceiving him the entire time.

"Let's go hunt."

Ralph dove this way and that in his attempt to escape the impending danger. He heard two pairs of feet on his trail and then a terrified scream. The footsteps ceased. Ralph wheeled around to see if someone had caught up to him. He stared at the empty forest with confusion. Suddenly a dark figure appeared out from behind the trees.

"Roger?" Ralph stuttered in bewilderment. "What are you doing here? Where's Jack?"

"Did you know?" Roger raised his head to face Ralph with an insane look plastered to his face. "Did you know that when people scream it's like you get to know their true personality?"

"What?" Ralph gaped, dumbstruck.

"Right before a person dies it's like you get to know them for who they really are," Roger stated. "Let's see what kind of person you really are." He withdrew his knife from behind his back and charged at Ralph like a bullet firing from a loaded pistol. Ralph dodged to the side, barely escaping.

"You're nuts!" he shrieked before swiping a nearby branch and beating Roger over the head as hard as he could. Roger emitted a grunt before coming at Ralph with his knife again swiftly, this time nicking the blonde boy's cheek.

"Maybe I am," Roger grinned, "but I could never do stuff like this back at home. Now that it's just the two of us, once you're gone I won't have anyone else to hear the screams from."

"Have you always been like this?" Ralph stalled.

"Maybe I have been," Roger began, "I don't remember when it started and I don't really care. Here I can do whatever I want." With that he lunged at Ralph and aimed for his stomach. He managed to pierce his side and it took all of Ralph's self-control not to cry out in pain. He took a swing at Roger's head and managed to bowl him over.

The battle raged on for a while with both of them getting more and more exhausted with each passing second. Eventually both of their knees shook and buckled beneath them. On their hands and knees each boy glared at each other with an intent to kill. Ralph's for survival and Roger's for his bloodthirsty impulse.

"I'm going to make you scream," Roger threatened with utmost ferocity.

"I'm going to get out of here," Ralph replied with determination, "and I'll take you with me if you come to your senses."

"Are you crazy?" Ralph found this quite ironic coming from the little psychopath before him. "I'll be tossed in prison for everything that's happened here! Only one of us can survive."

"If you come with me," Ralph tried to reason with him, "then we can hunt for food together and keep a fire going so that we can get off of this godforsaken island and go back home. Besides, I'm just as guilty as you are of murder."

"Stop it!" Roger shouted. "You're only making things worse for both of us! I'm going to kill you now and get it over with!" He stumbled to his feet and attempted to stab Ralph once again but narrowly missed, collapsing in a heap of blood and sweat, panting heavily. He could barely move his limbs when he felt a pair of arms lift him up by the armpits and drag him down the mountain.

Roger awoke abruptly, finding himself tied to a nearby tree and unable to move his limbs at all. He jerked his head to the side and found Ralph starting a small fire in the center of the sand.

"Untie me," he croaked with malice that ended up sounding pitiful. Luckily, Ralph heard him.

"Oh, you're awake." Ralph rubbed the back of his neck for a minute. "I assume that you're thirsty. Let me get you some water." He came back with half of a coconut shell filled almost to the brim with fresh water. Roger gulped it down greedily.

"Hungry?" Ralph asked.

"No." Roger struggled against his bindings but to no avail. His stomach betrayed him in an extremely loud growl. He blushed in spite of himself. Ralph grinned.

"Wait here."

"It's not like I have a choice."

After a few hours Roger got extremely antsy. He grit his teeth and forced a question out that had been nagging at him for a while. He glared at the other boy before speaking.

"When will you cut me loose?"

"When we're rescued," was the only reply that he received.


End file.
